Artificial Angel
Robert Mann had to find his wife. Linda was somewhere else on the station, possibly in their home, or hiding out in the warehouses. He had to get her to the evacuation transports before they left everyone behind.
Picadilly Station had come under attack from the Machina. It seemed like the force was small, but so was the station. And unlike many others, it was not an 'open air' dome design. The passages were cramped and the 'homes' were not much more than large compartments. Open spaces were few and far between, and little more than a court in a mall. The living spaces all felt like an 'interior', so there were few places to run or hide as the Machina and their larvae terrors swept through the halls looking for victims.
He couldn't leave her to die at their hands, violated first, and turned into something she wasn't. He didn't exactly fancy that fate for himself either.
He pounded down one of the labyrinthine passages of the station, boots thumping on the metallic floor. He wasn't wearing his bodysuit like normal, instead garbed with more 'casual' attire, thick navy-blue work pants, lined with pockets, and a tight-fitting light grey shirt made of similar materials, though they were a little less form-fitting compared to the bodysuit.
He had no time to get the bodysuit, which was a better choice to wear if someone had to get into an emergency EVA suit. Though how many of
those
were available, he had no idea.
His black boots skidded on the floor as he came to a sudden stop, hearing the sound of screaming and... singing? He expected maniacal laughter, that was what he'd heard in the stories and seen from the public alerts about the Machina threat. Singing was new. And what he heard, though sonorous and oddly ethereal, had an uncomfortable 'playful' edge to it.
Terrible noises followed, and soon those cries turned to desperate moans and moist clapping.
Robert grimaced, and turned to his left, heading down another direction.
He had to go around the danger, but that meant a less direct route to his wife. He hoped she was at home. It was closer than the warehouses, but at least they were in the same direction. Though if he had to keep taking detours, then it wouldn't matter much if he found her. They'd be left behind on this godforsaken station.
At least they'd be together...
He heard gunfire, the local UOF garrison doing its best to stem the tide, but he didn't like what he heard; panicked shouts filtering down the corridors, desperate orders, and joyful, playful singing and what sounded like offers of bliss and eternity... sometimes giving way to obscene cacophony.
He found himself taking another detour, this time away from the main passages; maybe the maintenance tunnels were his best bet.
The narrow grey door he came to was locked, but he worked maintenance; his keycard gave him access, and he slipped into the darker grey passage beyond, the wall panelling less smooth and more open, exposing the numerous conduits and interfaces dedicated to monitoring the station, whilst pipes and cables ran beneath the grated floor.
It was dangerous, going through these tight spaces, but he had no choice. Fortunately, the light was still generous, even if the spinning of the orange emergency lights at every intersection proved incredibly distracting.
He was about to exit a door, when it suddenly burst out of its tracks, an explosion knocking him down to the floor, heat singeing his face. It was a miracle that he wasn't struck by the door itself, which had managed to wedge itself between the walls of the passage he now laid in. Fire licked the opening where the door used to be, and severed cables sparked.
He coughed, and checked his salt-and-pepper hair for smouldering, then his stubble around his jawline. He checked his face next, and grimaced when he felt a rivulet of blood, pulling his hand away to see the crimson smear.
He found the source of the bleeding above his left brow, some of it trickling down into his eye. He tried to blink it out, his blue left eye narrowing slightly, whilst his right green eye squinted a little from the brightness of the flames before him.
He grimaced, and slowly pulled himself back until he could sit up without the wedged door getting in his way; if only he was a little younger. Middle age had caught up with him, even if he did consider himself fit.
Hard-faced, he considered what he was going to do next; the more time he wasted, the less likely he could escape with Linda.
He was about to get himself to his feet, when he saw a shape through the flames; the corridor outside had been obliterated, though fortunately there had been no breaches.
Unfortunately, though the fire was able to burn thanks to that lack of breach... whatever was beyond proved unfazed, a glossy black hand gripping the rent edges of the door frame.
His eyes widened, his face paling further in fear. He tried to crawl backwards, but he still felt a little dazed from the blast. The hand found the wedged door, and effortlessly dislodged it, tossing it behind its form to be licked by the flames as it approached.
Amber eyes with dark pupils, wreathed in solid black sclera, observed him. A pale grey face, almost white in colour, looked down at him, lips twisting into a gentle smile.
Dark, flat metal antennae flanked its head, sticking out almost like ears, whilst silvery horns grew out from the sides of its head, splitting in two and encircling its head like a halo. Silvery hair hung to its shoulders.
Golden accents seemed to mark the junctures where its glossy black limbs and pale-grey body met, as well as other parts, including the tail that swayed behind it.
A pair of wings, light grey with golden 'feathers' - they looked more like the points of swords - folded behind it in the narrow space, glinting in the light of the fire.
Its torso, naturally feminine, sported a set of generously endowed breasts, each almost as big as his head, the nipples glowing with a white light that seemed to have a subtle lemon-tinge.
A 'womb tattoo' of a biohazard symbol with cog teeth along the outer arcs pulsed on its belly with the same light, whilst further down, he spied its pussy, also glowing with that hue, its broad hips and curvy rear perfectly framing that slit.
Its feet ended in glossy heels, whilst its fingertips seemed tipped with claws, which too glowed that off-lemony white.
